


An Abundance of Dereks

by antpower



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Rewrite, Clones, Double Oral Penetration, Gangbang, Group Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spitroasting, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpower/pseuds/antpower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something went wrong in the de-aging process and now Stiles is stuck Derek-sitting not just one but a whole <i>pack</i> of Dereks.  He knows exactly what to do with them.  (S04E02 "117" rewrite)</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Abundance of Dereks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Sterek Writers Network](http://sterekwriters.tumblr.com/) s4 rewrite - I was assigned with the episode "117".
> 
> I've been thinking a lot about Derek clones since all the s4 theories, and particularly since [this conversation](http://badmooonrising.tumblr.com/post/93216390680/antwolff-replied-to-your-post-but-guys-im-here). It was supposed to be all clever and insightful but it got hijacked by my obsession with Stiles getting spitroasted.
> 
> Title taken from the John Green book "An Abundance of Katherines", which I have not read but am still fairly sure has nothing else in common with this fic.

In hindsight, Stiles thinks he should've known. You can't just _de-age_ someone with witchcraft. If you could, some magic user would've cashed in on the secret years ago and there wouldn't be so many of those “plastic surgery gone wrong” shows. So, maybe he should've clued on, but he'd given up questioning all the weird and crappy stuff that happened in their weird and crappy lives, especially Derek's life, which was the weirdest and crappiest of them all.

He's in Scott's room, trying to keep suddenly-teen!Derek distracted, which isn't as difficult as he'd expected. Sure, they'd had the disaster dinner with Agent McDickface, which could've gone better, but Stiles had explained things, kind of, and it turned out that pre-fire Derek is a relatively trusting guy. Which makes sense in a way that hurts Stiles' heart and he doesn't really want to dwell on. He's kind of adorable too, all regular-Derek's biting humor wrapped up in a baby-faced, fluffy package, a little crease between his eyebrows as he tries to grasp the recent advancements in _Call of Duty_. Stiles kind of wants to bite him on the face. Not in a creepy way.

"You really suck at this, Mini D," Stiles tells him, mostly to make him scowl. He looks more Derek-y that way and less like someone Stiles would hang out with after school, maybe have sleepovers with and get into a stupid wrestling match with over who was hogging the covers. That type of thinking is dangerous and Stiles wants no part in it.

"Don't call me that," says Mini D, throwing the controller at Stiles' head. "You do it then, if you're such an expert."

"I am an expert at many things, little guy, _Call of Duty_ is only one of them."

Mini D raises his eyebrows. There's a sparkle in his eye that looks downright _playful_ and he's definitely staring at Stiles' mouth. 

Someone knocks at the front door, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. He's pretty sure he's just been saved from a downward spiral into a circle of hell reserved especially for people who lust after the de-aged bodies of their sort-of friends.

It's a bit too late at night for anyone to be visiting for any reason other than trouble, so he jumps up and pulls Mini D to his feet.

"Come on," Stiles says, waving Mini D out of the room in front of him. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until this whole weirdness is over." He marches Mini D down the stairs in front of him and arranges him so he's hidden behind the door, out of sight. He huffs in a way that's probably supposed to be threatening but really just makes him look like a baby chicken. Stiles isn't even scared when the real Derek threatens him, let alone this fluffy, squishable version. Not that Derek ever threatens him anymore, which kind of sucks in the fear boner department if he's being honest, though it's probably better for the state of their relationship overall.

He (barely) restrains himself from patting Mini D on the head and opens the door. He stares in confusion for a moment and then closes the door. He turns toward Mini D, who is still there and still mini. He opens the door again. 

“Huh," he says.

"What?" asks Mini D, pushing at him to get a look around the door.

"What," says the fully-grown naked Derek standing on the McCall's porch.

"Mini D," Stiles says, pulling him into the doorway and trying to look anywhere other than the nakedness of Derek, "meet Big D."

"We need to call Scott," both Dereks say, and while it's uncanny and creepy on a level Stiles has never before experienced, he can't help but agree.

*

"Stop thinking about threesomes," Scott mutters.

"I'm not!" Stiles says, and Scott is nice enough not to call him on the lie. But it's not like Stiles can help it. He’s only human and surely anyone would think about threesomes when faced with two Dereks. Well, anyone except Scott, obviously. "Anyway," he whispers fiercely, "I think my untimely boner is the least of our problems right now."

Stiles had found adult Derek some clothes while they waited for Scott, and now the two Dereks are sitting in the McCall living room, glaring at each other while Scott and Stiles hide in the kitchen to discuss the situation. 

"They could be imposters," says Scott, peeking into the living room and then turning away and squeezing his eyes shut as if the sight of two Dereks makes his brain implode.

"I don't think so, man," says Stiles. "They're both so chock-full of Derekness."

"We should question them," Scott says. "Just to be sure."

"This is why I said we need a code-word," Stiles says, but he doesn't have any better ideas, so he follows Scott into the living room.

Scott stands near the doorway with his arms folded. "Derek," he says, and they both take a break from the glaring to focus on Scott.

"That one's Mini D, that one's Naked D," Stiles tells him.

"He's wearing clothes now," says Scott.

Stiles shrugs. "You show up naked at a guy's door and... hang on, you showed up at the door. You even knocked!" He points a finger dramatically at Big D. "You're the imposter!"

Derek rolls his eyes. "I could hear two people but only catch the scent of one, I was being cautious in case the other person was a stranger. _Some_ of us don't go shouting about werewolves from the rooftops."

Stiles snorts.

"He's telling the truth," says Scott. "Okay." He furrows his brow in that cute Scotty way he has when he's thinking. "What did you say the first time we met?"

"I told you to get off my property, you were trespassing."

Scott nods and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"You can hear lies, dude, just ask them both if they're Derek."

He does, and they are. The situation isn't exactly rife with imminent danger, so Scott texts the pack an update and then decides they should hole up for the night and order pizza.

"But how are there two of us?" asks Mini D.

"And how is one of us still a child," says Big D.

Now that they’ve stopped glaring, they’re ignoring each other.

"Well, what do you remember?" Stiles asks, flopping down in an armchair.

"Not much," says Big D. "I remember a bunch of hunters showing up in my loft, and then Kate, and then this morning I woke up in Mexico."

Scott and Stiles exchange a worried look.

"In Mexico? In like a creepy abandoned temple place?"

Big D nods.

"So, Kate did something to clone Derek?" Scott asks.

"Or she did something to de-age him and it went wrong and just made a copy," says Stiles, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"What's going on?" asks Mini D. "Kate wouldn't want to hurt me..."

Big D lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "Listen, you stupid little —“

"Derek," Stiles says quietly, shaking his head for him to just not. "It's not his fault."

Derek looks over at Stiles with wide, open eyes, a look that never fails to tear at Stiles' heart. It makes him feel a little bit like throwing up. They never talk about this stuff, not unless they're in some sort of high pressure situation where they can yell it at each other and ignore it later. They communicate by reading each others faces, helpless little touches, and they understand each other perfectly in this unspoken language. They always have. And Stiles gets why Derek's so tetchy, looking at a version of himself who doesn't carry the weight of guilt and grief, but Mini D doesn't deserve to have it laid on him any more than Big D does.

"How much does he know?" Derek asks.

"A bit," says Stiles. "Not everything."

"We should probably call Deaton," says Scott.

"Right, because he's always sooooo helpful and never wants anyone to do creepy and pointless rituals that make everything so much worse."

Scott shrugs. "Do you have a better plan?" 

"No," Stiles says, folding his arms over his chest and huddling into his chair. This is exactly the reason he doesn't trust Deaton, because he's always their only option when things get weird. He has them completely over a barrel and Stiles is 90% sure half the stuff he gets them to do is for his own amusement. And he's 10% sure Deaton's using them as research subjects. "But I want it noted that I think this is a bad idea. Write it down or record it on your phone or something so I can play it back to you when this all goes to shit."

"We should do what Scott thinks is right," says Mini D. "He's the alpha."

Stiles gives him the stink eye, the dirty little traitor.

"He's right, we should follow Scott's lead on this one. I don't trust Deaton either, but we don't know what's going on or why Kate did this, we only know it won't be anything good."

And Stiles gets that, he really does, so he lets Scott leave the room to make the call with no further comment.

"Sooooooo," Stiles says after he hears Scott start talking to Deaton. "Dereks. Derekum. Dereki. Derektachi. What is the collective noun for a group of Dereks, I wonder. A brood? A skulk? A lamentation?"

Big D flares his nostrils in that way he has when Stiles is distracting him from his troubles and he's pretending to be annoyed about it. It kind of warms Stiles’ heart.

"Definitely not a gaggle," Stiles adds, because it seems like years since he's been able to tease Derek like this.

"Obviously a pack," says Mini D.

"There's only two of us," says Big D, glaring at Mini D again. "We're just a pair."

But he's wrong. So, so wrong.

*

They're still waiting for pizza to arrive while Scott tells them exactly how helpful Deaton wasn't, so the knock on the door shouldn't be a big deal. Scott stops talking mid-sentence and both Dereks freeze.

"You're kidding," Stiles says, getting up to answer the door because it would be weird for Derek to answer the door to himself, and he's closer than Scott. He swings the door open and greets Derek #3 with a smile. "Why couldn't you be the pizza? We already have two of you, we don't have any pizza at all."

Which is a total bluff, because Stiles isn't even hungry and the multiple Derek situation is the most entertaining supernatural crisis they'd had in ever.

"What are you talking about, Stiles?" says new Derek, as Stiles waves him in. 

This Derek is clothed. His own clothes, Stiles notes, that maroon sweater with the thumbholes that looks as if it would be as soft as puppy ears. Which means he must've gone to the loft first. He's his regular age, all stubbly and unfairly hot. He looks tired, Stiles thinks. He stops two steps into the room, looks around, and then turns back to Stiles with a carefully blank face.

"I told you, man," Stiles says.

It's weirder now, with two identical Dereks. They probably should kiss, Stiles thinks. For science. It might break the spell. Screw Deaton and his "I'll need to research and get back to you" bullshit, Stiles knows what’s up. He's read Harry Potter 47 times, he practically has a phD in magic.

Scott shoots him a pointed look and Stiles ignores him. He’s not even thinking about threesomes at all anymore, so Scott can just shut it.

Stiles claps the new Derek on the shoulder, leaving his hand there because the sweater is just as soft as it looks and maybe new Derek needs the reassurance.

"So, you've got your Mini D, who we rescued from Mexico," Stiles says, gesturing toward him with a flourish. "As you can probably see, he's the teenage you. Why, we don't know. And to your left you have Big D. Well, that's what we were calling him..."

"Only you were calling him that, Stiles," says Scott.

Stiles ignores him.

"But now you're here and you're both Big D, so I'll need to rename you." 

"We're not puppies, Stiles," both Big Ds say, and yeah, that's never getting old. He should probably be filming it.

He looks between them, trying to find a way to differentiate that's obvious and won't get confusing, but the only thing not identical is their clothes. "So, this one can be Scott's sweats D, and this one can be soft sweater D." He rubs his hand against the sweater again. It's just so soft.

The Dereks glare at him.

"You can't name them for their clothes, what if they get changed?" says Scott, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Well, what do you want to do, number them? Way to dehumanize him, dude."

"Just call me Derek," says soft sweater Derek. 

"Yeah, because that won't get confusing," sweats D tells him.

The two adult Dereks glare at each other, not the cute, secretly-amused glare he usually gives Stiles, this is taking it up to 11 on the glare-o-meter.

"Nope," says Stiles, waving his hand between them as if he could cut the glare in two. "We'll have none of this. No hating on yourself allowed from any of the Dereks. Only loving on Derek is allowed here." Stiles manages to avoid the eyes of everyone in the room and tries to pretend he’s not in a room where everyone can smell just how much loving on Derek he’d like to do. "So, you can be Sassbrows," he tells the one in the chair, previously Big D/Scott's sweats D. "Just keep your face like that, it will be perfect. And you can be snuggly D, but you have to stay in this sweater until this is fixed, sorry man." He pats him again, but whatever, it's not as if Derek's moving away.

The pizza comes and they eat while snuggly D explains that he woke up in Mexico, stole some clothes from a village and then hitchhiked back to Beacon Hills and after finding the loft empty, tracked down Scott. From the timing, Stiles works out that he woke up around an hour before Sassbrows, so he's technically the first adult Derek.

"So, does that mean we'll get a new Derek every hour?" Scott asks, taking the last piece of pepperoni.

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe that's her evil plan, to populate the world entirely with Dereks." Stiles tilts his head on the side, staring off into nothing as he thinks about it. It doesn't seem that evil, and Stiles could kind of get behind it. Maybe if there were 6 billion Dereks, he'd have a chance with one. Maybe more than one. Snuggly Derek is sitting closer to him than necessary, a warm weight at his side, and Stiles isn't sure how this works, if the Dereks all share the same characteristics, if they like the same things. They'd inhaled the pizza without discrimination, so that was no guide. Stiles decides he needs to test it.

"So, Dereks. What's your favorite movie?"

"Fight Club," they all answer, which isn't really helpful because Fight Club is awesome and anyone would like it.

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Breed of dog?"

"Beagle."

Sassbrows hesitates. "Pug." He scowls around at them all as if daring them to comment.

Stiles grins.

"What's with all the getting-to-know-you questions?" Scott asks.

"I'm trying to determine how identical they are. They're all Derek, but are they all the exact same Derek?"

Scott nods. "So you think it's like an evil twin thing, only instead of being split into an evil one and a good one, there's a young one and a scowly one and a soft sweater one?"

"Maybe," Stiles says. "Or maybe they're just identical copies."

"If we're copies then there has to be an original," says Sassbrows. "Like Jango Fett and the stormtroopers."

Stiles’ heart does a little flip-flop.

"What?" asks Scott, but Stiles doesn't explain because Scott has had his chances.

"Exactly," Stiles says. "And if you guys are stormtroopers, then we have to find the original Derek, which is why we need to figure out if you guys are identical."

So they keep questioning the Dereks. There are enough differences to make Stiles think it's an evil twin thing, not a stormtrooper thing. Mini D likes chocolate cake while snuggly D likes carrot and Sassbrows prefers muffins. There are a lot of things the adult Dereks agree on that Mini D doesn't, but that could be more to do with age and memory than the cause of the copying, so Stiles disregards those answers. Mini D and Sassbrows both like classic rock but snuggly D can't stand it, and there's so much disagreement over favorite book that claws are raised.

"Evil twins," Stiles concludes. "Only not evil and not twins."

The Dereks nod, like they knew all along and were only humoring Stiles, though Stiles could tell they'd been worried about the stormtrooper theory. And rightly so. Stormtroopers are lame.

Melissa gets home, looks in the living room, sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm not going to ask," she says. "I'm going upstairs to take a shower and I don't want to know anything about this unless lives are in danger. But there's another one sitting on the front step, you should do something with him."

It escalates quickly.

By morning there are six Dereks. Stiles names the new ones still-thinks-he’s-the-alpha (he doesn’t _literally_ still think he’s the alpha, but he has the alpha strut and is wearing the leather jacket), really-likes-apples (it was getting late and there was no pizza left), and Porny McSexbomb (he only calls him this in his head but he doesn’t know what else the guy expects when he keeps smiling at Stiles and standing super close and refusing to wear a shirt). He feels kind of bad reducing them to a description when they're all more-or-less the same Derek that he's always known, with all the complexity and idiosyncrasy of the original, but the situation’s getting out of hand, and it’s still better than numbering them.

After that it seems to slow down.

"Maybe they only spawn at night," Stiles says, setting a cup of coffee on the table for Melissa and taking the seat next to Scott.

"We don't _spawn_ ," says Alpha, leaning against the kitchen bench with his arms folded so that the muscles bulge. Stiles knows he does it on purpose.

"We need to fix this," says Scott, rubbing his eyes. It's been a long night for them all, trying to keep the Dereks from tearing each other's throats out. They've settled down now, probably because they're too tired, but Stiles doesn't like what it says about Derek's self-perception.

"You _need_ to go to school," says another Derek, appearing from the hallway. He's a new one and Stiles immediately names him Bossy.

"Nuh-uh," says Stiles. "We're not leaving you alone when we don't know what the deal is."

"We're not exactly alone, Stiles," says Apples. "There's seven of us."

"And what if she only needs one of you for her evil plot?" Stiles raises his eyebrows. "Safety in numbers, dude."

"Well, I'm really sorry, but you can't all stay here," says Melissa. "We just don't have the room."

“We’ll stay with Stiles,” says Porny McSexbomb. “He always keeps me safe.”

Which is how Stiles ends up with a bedroom full of Dereks. Scott's got the rest of the pack on Derek alert, Kira and Lydia hanging back at the loft in case any new ones appear and Malia keeping watch along the highway, but they've been a while without any new ones and Stiles thinks they're okay for the moment. His dad's at work, but Stiles texts him to say not to freak out if he gets home to a house full of Dereks and if he spots any new ones to send them along.

"Okay," says Stiles, looking around his room.

Alpha’s leaning against the window frame, Sassbrows is in the computer chair, Mini D and Apples are by the door and the others are sitting on the bed looking up at him. None of them make eye contact with any of the others, as if they can ignore each other out of existence.

"So maybe if you two take the spare room," Stiles says, pointing to two random Dereks.

"No," says Bossy. "The point of us being here is to stay together."

Stiles sighs. The house is ringed in mountain ash and there are protection sigils on all the doors and windows, but he knows that stubborn set of Derek's jaw and he's too tired to deal with it.

"Well, I've had a really long night-slash-morning and I want to get some sleep." He gives the Dereks on the bed a pointed look.

Porny McSexbomb smiles at him and leans back on his elbows.

"We'll have to share," says Alpha. “We can sleep in shifts.” He strips off his shirt and moves toward the bed as if it’s no big deal and not the way 60% of Stiles’ masturbatory fantasies begin.

"I'm going to shower," Stiles says quickly. "You guys help yourselves to food or whatever, and try not to kill each other."

He has his hand on his dick before he's even under the water, and he knows they can all hear him but there must be something seriously wrong with him because the thought only makes him harder. He comes in record time and by the time he's clean and turns the water off, he's ready to go again.

When he gets out of the shower, he has a text from Scott. "Gone 2 Mex w Deaton," it says. "Shld b ok by morning."

Stiles snorts, because when has anything ever been that easy. Stiles wonders if it bothers the Dereks, that they'll be merged back into one body with all these other people that they obviously don't like. He kind of wants to help them find some common ground before it happens, to bring them together, but there's only one way he can think of to do that, and it's not helping his boner situation any.

He hasn't brought in clean clothes and the thought of putting on the clothes he's been wearing for the past two days isn't appealing at all, so he wraps his towel around himself, grabs his phone, and leaves the bathroom. 

He knows he's kind of pushing it. The towel does nothing to hide the fact he's half-hard again and with that plus the way he maybe mumbled Derek's name when he came, he's pretty sure he's made his feelings clear. It's nothing that Derek can't ignore if he chooses to though, and Stiles is sure he will. He's ignored every signal Stiles has ever given him, and Stiles is pretty sure not even Derek can be obtuse enough to not realize that Stiles has always been attracted to him, with the lingering looks and flirty sassing and probably constant scent of arousal. And it's pretty cool of Derek not to have made a big deal out of it, even before they were friends, so normally Stiles wouldn't rub it in his face like this, but Stiles is only human, and if one tiny part of Derek wants Stiles back, then it's probably in his room right now.

He enters his room and is greeted by a roar and a swipe of claws. He backs into the door and Sassbrows stands in front of him, shielding him from Porny McSexbomb, who's totally lost his shit and is being held back by bossy Derek. He's throwing his whole weight against bossy Derek, trying to get to Stiles, and Stiles has no clue what's going on.

"He's been like this since you got in the shower," Alpha says from the bed. "Jesus, Stiles, do you always have to be such a goddamned tease?"

"What?" Stiles asks, clutching his towel to himself and trying to sound indignant while hiding the fact that he's now fully hard.

Sassbrows whirls around to face him. "It's hard enough to control ourselves around you at the best of times," he says, stepping closer. "With that _scent_ coming off you, and that _mouth_..." His eyes drop to Stiles' mouth, which is gaping open in amazement. Sassbrows moves even closer until he's right up in Stiles' business. Porny McSexbomb lets out a high-pitched whine. "God, that scent coming off you _all the time_ , all fresh and ripe, like you're just dying for it.” He takes a deep breath, his eyes full of heat. 

Stiles wonders if this is some side-effect of the cloning process or whatever, the sudden urge to sniff Stiles, but the look Sassbrows is giving him isn’t exactly unfamiliar. He’s seen it on Derek’s face dozens of times, he just never knew what it meant.

“We've tried so hard to stay away from you, but you make it impossible."

Stiles is fairly sure he slipped and hit his head in the shower, but that doesn’t make it any less awesome. He fists his hands in Derek's t-shirt and closes that last distance between them.

Derek's mouth is hot and soft as Stiles licks into it, and Stiles has had this fantasy ever since the first time Derek ever pushed him against a wall, so he barely registers the noises in the rest of the room, something falling and smashing, the murmur of voices. He wants to kiss Derek like this forever, the slow drag of his bottom lip over Derek's, lapping at him with his tongue, the heat of his body everywhere, but it's pulled away from him suddenly, too soon.

Derek stumbles backwards, and he's replaced by another. Porny McSexbomb's right in front of him, claws out but no fangs, and his eyes are glowing and filled with a desperation that Stiles recognizes, matches. They lunge for each other. Stiles' towel drops away as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Derek's hair, but the fabric of Derek's jeans is rough against Stiles' hot, hard cock, and he has to be rid of it.

Derek's mouth is all over him, nipping at his jaw, licking down his neck, as Stiles rips open the button on Derek's jeans and tugs them down. Derek kicks them away, then pushes Stiles back into the door. His fingers grip Derek's ass cheeks and he hears one of the other Dereks whisper, " _Jesus_."

It brings him back to himself for a moment, and he blinks his eyes open. His head is tipped back against the door as Derek sucks a mark into his neck, and he sees the other Dereks, all staring from their different points in the room. They all look hungry, as if they want to devour him, almost as wild as the Derek that's touching him. He feels his mouth twist into a wicked smirk.

He pushes at Porny McSexbomb, nudges him toward the bed, and he seems to get the message. He grabs Stiles by the thighs, lifts him easily. Their cocks rub together as Derek moves them over to the bed and it teases at Stiles like an itch he can’t quite reach. Derek dumps him on the bed next to Alpha, crawls on top of him, and Stiles winds his legs around Derek’s waist, tries to pull him down as Stiles bucks up into him. He can feel their eyes on him, the other Dereks, but he doesn’t mind. He likes it, he wants it, wants them to see him getting off rubbing against this version of his body.

He thrusts up against Derek’s stomach, the softness of his skin a maddening contrast to the hard muscle beneath, and he wants it, _god_ he wants it, wants them all.

A weight settles next to him and Derek moves off him slightly. Stiles tries to move with him, but he holds Stiles down with a hand to the shoulder as he turns to bare his teeth at the intruder. Stiles doesn’t know which Derek it is, he doesn’t think it matters. They’re all Derek, all the same person, and that’s what’s important.

He reaches up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Porny’s neck.

“Sssh,” he says. “It’s still you. It’s okay.”

Porny seems reassured, doesn’t react when the new Derek leans in to kiss him, just mouths his way down Stiles’ neck. It means something, Stiles thinks, the Dereks working together instead of glaring and snarling at each other. 

The new Derek sucks at Stiles’ lips, bites them, then pulls away at stares at them as if transfixed. His lips feel swollen, used, and when Derek traces them with a finger, he can’t help but lick out at it, draw it into his mouth. Derek’s eyes go wide and he pushes another finger in, presses down on Stiles’ tongue as Stiles sucks on them. Stiles whimpers as Porny bites at his stomach, holds his hips down with his broad, strong hands.

It all seems to happen in a haze. There are other hands on him, pulling his legs apart, sliding up his arms to hold his hands above his head, more fingers rubbing against his lips. A tongue flickers over his nipple and a mouth sucks at his thigh, and he’s lightheaded with it, mindless. Derek is _everywhere_ , all around him, everywhere but his cock, and he needs it, _fuck_ he needs it, thinks maybe he’ll die without it. He tries to rub against him, but Derek’s holding him down by the hips, by the hands, by the ankles, and he can’t move.

Derek chuckles in his ear. “I knew you’d be like this,” he says, low and like the echo of every fantasy Stiles has ever had. “All flushed and pretty and aching for it.” He licks a line below Stiles’ ear, then blows a cold breath over it. “But you can’t come yet, not until we’ve all had you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

The hands holding him down move, turn him over, and Stiles is happy for them to arrange him however they like. He’s completely at Derek’s mercy, and it’s not something he ever thought he’d like, but it’s amazing to just be able to give up the fight for once, to surrender. 

Derek tucks Stiles’ knees up under his stomach, pressed in tight together with his cock trapped between his thighs so he can’t even rut against the mattress. He pulls his feet wide apart, so his ass is raised up, splayed open. Stiles props himself up on his elbows, but one of the Dereks pushes at his shoulder until Stiles moves so he can slip beneath him, shuffles up the bed until his cock is level with Stiles’ face. It’s flushed pink and so hard it’s dripping. Stiles can see a vein pulsing near the head, feel the heat of it against his skin. He looks up at Derek through his lashes and smiles. Derek is _glorious_ , and amazing in ways that go well beyond his physical beauty, and Stiles can hardly believe that he wants _him_ , that _they_ want him.

Derek takes his cock in his hand and rubs it across Stiles’ mouth, smearing pre-cum all over his lips. Stiles licks at it, suckles on the head, wants to feel the weight of it against his tongue. He’s distracted by fingers on his ass cheeks, pulling him open even wider. The fingers tease him, edging closer to his hole and then away. Then a mouth covers him, licking at his rim, pushing inside, and Stiles jolts forward, taking Derek deep into his mouth. There are fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, pushing him down onto Derek’s dick, forcing it further into his mouth. A voice in his ear says he’s good, so good, doing so well, as the tongue thrusts in and out of his hole, in and back out, then traces his rim, sucks at it, before thrusting in again. 

Derek bucks up and into his mouth and the hand on his head pushes him down. The mouth at his ass moves away, and it’s replaced by fingers, so many fingers, teasing feathery trails from his balls to his hole, circling his rim, pulling at his cheeks. It’s maddening and he wants to push back into the touch but there are hands at his hips again, holding him in place. He feels the cool trickle of lube down his crack, the fingers spreading it down to his rim and then finally one dips inside. He’s done it to himself enough times before to be used to the feeling, but it’s so much different when it’s Derek’s fingers pushing inside of him, opening Stiles up in slow, careful circles that are a complete contrast to the frantic way he’s fucking Stiles’ mouth. 

Stiles’ lips are stretched wide around Derek’s cock, his cheeks hollow from sucking it. He tries to relax his throat, but he hasn’t quite got it down yet and every time Derek’s cock hits the back of it, he gags. It only makes Derek’s movements more frenzied, and it’s probably fucked up but it’s really doing it for Stiles. Derek’s always been the embodiment of control; even in the early days, when he used to shove Stiles around, Stiles could always tell Derek was being careful not to really hurt him, that he was holding back. So for Derek to trust Stiles enough to lose that control, yeah, it does it for him. Derek’s fingers tighten in his hair, they curl in his ass, and Stiles’ eyes are watering and he’s drooling down his chin but fuck he feels so good.

Derek adds another finger and then there are tongues lapping at his hole as well, he can feel the way they curl around Derek’s fingers, curl around each other, and fuck he wishes he could see it. He doesn’t realize he’s been making noises, muffled moans deep in his throat, until one escapes when Derek grips him by the hair and tilts his head back, and his cock slips out of Stiles’ mouth trailing a line of saliva as he comes across Stiles’ face. Derek’s fingers twist in Stiles’ ass and Stiles licks at the come on his lips. 

The Derek in front of him slumps back onto the pillows and the one at his side twists him, licks at his cheek and rubs the rest of the come into Stiles’ skin. He shifts so that he’s under Stiles, lying between the other Derek’s legs. His cock prods at Stiles’ chest, and Stiles arches his back to try and reach it, but Derek tugs him back up to kiss him. He cradles Stiles’ face in his hands, massaging his jaw with his thumbs.

“You’re amazing,” Derek whispers, giving him that wide-eyed look again.

The fingers in his ass curl and twist again and Stiles cries out against Derek’s mouth. 

“Come on,” Stiles pants. “One of you fuck me already.”

He hears a snort behind him and the fingers slip out. The Derek in front of him curls his hand around Stiles’ neck and brings their foreheads together.

“Are you sure?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and Derek smiles at him, a small genuine smile that Stiles thinks could break his heart just by looking at it. He keeps eye contact with Stiles as one of the other Dereks lines his cock up to Stiles’ entrance. Stiles bites his lip. He expects it to hurt, but there are hands smoothing up and down his back, fingers tangled with his own, soft kisses at his shoulders, and he completely trusts Derek. He pushes back slowly, trying to stay relaxed as Derek’s cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. It’s a little uncomfortable and strange, and Stiles doesn’t know if it’s Derek’s steady gaze meeting his own, all the Derek’s surrounding him and making him feel safe, protected, if Derek’s being super careful, or just that he’s super fucking ready for this, but there isn’t any pain.

He rotates his hips experimentally and cries out as Derek’s cock brushes his prostate. Derek’s gripping Stiles’ hips so tight he’s sure he’s going to have bruises, and he pulls Stiles back onto him, burying him deep inside. It also brings Stiles within reach of other Derek’s cock and Stiles gets his lips around it just as Derek pushes back into him. Stiles feels as if every nerve in his body has come alive as Derek grinds into him. He moves in tiny little circles that rub his cockhead against Stiles’ prostate, strokes at it, teasing him in a way that almost feels like too much but leaves him wanting more. The movements become faster, more erratic. Stiles clenches tight around him, wanting to draw him in, keep him deep inside. The fingers at his hips turn into claws as Derek pushes into him, once, twice more and then comes. 

He’s barely pulled out when there’s another cock at his entrance. This Derek takes him by the arms and pulls them back as he pushes in, controlling all his movements, how far he can swallow Derek down, the angle of his hips, everything. He enters more easily this time, Stiles all loose and wet from already being fucked, and it’s even better. The cock in his ass drives him onto the cock in his mouth, and he's full, so full, but he still wants more. Derek’s nailing his prostate every time, sending hot sparks all through him, but it’s not enough for him to come, not yet. He sucks messily at Derek’s cock and looks up to see the two Dereks watching him, the one behind tracing lazy patterns across the other’s chest.

He's aching hard, so close that if Derek even thought about touching his cock he'd probably come. As if sensing it, Derek stills inside him, tightens his hand around Stiles' arms and pulls him back so that the cock slips out of his mouth. His back is arched up off the bed and for the first time he looks around, sees the Dereks crowded around him, some already spent, some slowly stroking themselves as they watch him. Mini D hangs back a little, his mouth gaping open and a hand down his pants. Stiles' dick twitches.

"If you're good for us, we'll let you fuck him," Derek murmurs in his ear. "You'd be his first. We all want that, Stiles. Wouldn't it be nice, coming inside that hot, virgin hole? All you have to do is hold off a little longer."

Stiles whimpers and Derek takes that for agreement. Another Derek joins the two in front of him, pushing in close so that when Derek lowers him back down, there are two cocks nudging at his mouth. Derek fucks him with long, hard strokes, and Stiles licks at the cocks, taking turns to run his tongue up and down the underside of the head. They both try to push into his mouth at once and he opens his jaw so wide that it hurts, and he can’t do anything but take it. He loves it, loves the way he can feel the two cocks rub together over his tongue, loves the stretch of his lips around them, loves the way the two Dereks turn toward each other, clutching at each other's shoulders as they work their way into him. He can't take them in very far, the angle is too awkward, but they don't seem to care. 

The Derek fucking him releases his grip on Stiles' arms and Stiles slumps forward, head held in place by the two fucking his mouth. His arms fall uselessly beside him as he concentrates all his energy on trying not to come. Derek starts fucking him harder, pulling Stiles' ass cheeks wide, stretching him open. Stiles lets his eyes flutter closed and focusses on the way Derek fucks into him, fills him up and rubs against him. The room is filled with panting breaths and the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh. One of the Derek's shoves down his throat as he starts to come, spurting hot over his tongue and sending the other one over the edge. Fingernails rake through his hair and tears spill down his cheeks as he tries not to choke.

They ease out of his mouth, patting his hair and placing his head on one of their stomachs. One of them strokes his face, fingers trailing over his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips. The other braces him by the shoulders as he gets fucked harder and harder. He loves the way Derek uses his body, how he takes what he needs from Stiles, trusts that Stiles will give it to him. His cock throbs with it, with the feel of Derek inside of him, the slick, sure movements. Derek shudders, slumps over Stiles' back and bites at his shoulder blade, driving hard into Stiles as he comes.

He smooths his hands down Stiles' back as he moves away. Stiles feels the come trickle out of him, down his perineum, over his balls, and he raises his hips, shifts around, wanting to feel it slide over his cock, but before it can, he's being moved again. A strong arm wraps around his waist and pulls him up. He lets his head slump back onto Derek's shoulder, watching as the others rearrange themselves on the bed, making space for Mini D to lie down against the pillows. He seems almost shy as he looks up at Stiles, biting his lip and glancing away. Stiles wants to reassure him, but then Derek's nuzzling at his neck, stroking hands over his stomach, almost low enough to brush against his cock, and he gets distracted.

This Derek pushes Stiles forward, arranges Stiles so that he's kneeling between Mini's D's legs, arms bracketing his head. Stiles kisses him. It's a slow kiss, sweet, and it seems so innocent after everything else. Then Mini D bucks up, trapping their cocks between the heat of their bodies, and Stiles gasps into the kiss, grinding down. There are fingers pulling at his hips, trying to pull him back, but he fights against them. He finally has something to rut against, this sweet, sweet friction against his cock, and he doesn't want to give it up. But there are so many of them and they're stronger than him, and he whines as they pull him backward.

Derek's fingers are cool as they play with his hole, tugging at his rim, feeding the come back inside of him. He feels so well-used, swollen and full and wet, but he can't help but twitch back into Derek's touch.

"Get him ready," one of the Dereks say, putting a bottle of lube into his hand.

"I already did it," Mini D says, spreading his legs open to show off his shiny pink hole. "You guys were taking too long." 

Stiles grins at him but his hands are shaking as he rubs his thumb over the tight little pucker. God he wants it, he wants it _so much_. He pushes his thumb in and Mini D clenches down around it. He's wet inside but he's still so tight, and if Derek gets a redo of his first time, Stiles wants it to be good. He fumbles with the lube bottle, getting more of it on the sheet than his hand. He smears some quickly onto his dick, because if he touches himself any more than that it's going to be all over and there's no way he's missing out of this.

Mini D pushes his hips off the bed to hurry Stiles up, and he's smirking down at Stiles, but the smirk soon vanishes once Stiles gets a finger inside him. Stiles crooks the finger and Mini D bucks up, gasping, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach. The Derek behind him pushes two fingers into him. Stiles braces his arm beside Mini D’s head and mimics Derek’s movements, twisting his fingers inside Mini D when Derek does it to him, pumping them when Derek does. It makes him feel like some sort of conduit, as if he’s passing his own pleasure onto Mini D.

Mini D cranes his neck up to kiss Stiles, whispers against his lips, “come _on_ , do it,” and his voice is so earnest, so pleading that Stiles can’t deny him.

He draws his fingers out and grabs himself around the base of his cock, breathing deeply through his mouth as he lines himself up. He feels as if his entire body is trembling but Derek holds him steady, hands smoothing over his back, his hair. Derek’s cock nudges into his ass and slowly, so slowly, Stiles enters Mini D. He watches Mini D’s face carefully, ready to stop at the smallest sign of discomfort. His eyes are wide, fixed on Stiles’ face like it’s a revelation. Stiles strokes his thumb over Mini D’s cheek as he pushes in further. Mini D is a sweet, clinging heat all around him, pulling him in, and it takes everything Stiles has not to just slam into him.

The head of his cock breaches the tight ring of muscle around Mini D’s entrance and Stiles has to hold himself still for a moment, gather himself. Derek just has his tip inside Stiles, just enough to tease. When Stiles starts to move again, Derek does too, just enough to keep himself inside Stiles, that slight pressure at his rim. When he’s finally, _finally_ balls deep inside Mini D, Mini D reaches around him to grab him by the ass cheeks.

“Fuck me properly, Stilinski,” he says, his mouth quirking as he pulls Stiles in deeper. “Come on, I can take it.”

Stiles’ hips jerk back, impaling him on Derek’s cock, and he can’t hold back any more. He rams into Mini D, then fucks back onto Derek, working himself between the two of them frantically. He’s a mess of feeling, unable to separate the different sensations in his mind, not even caring, just wanting more of it, all of it. Mini D writhes on Stiles’ cock, flushed and panting. Derek lowers himself over Stiles’ back and begins to meet Stiles’ thrusts, trapping Mini D’s cock against his stomach. It’s as if Derek is _everywhere_ : inside of him, surrounding him, pervading everything that he is or has ever been. It spirals through Stiles, as Derek drives him into Mini D over and over, the feeling that Derek is soaking into him, melding with him.

Stiles knows he’s not going to last much longer, he’s too worked up, but from the way his fingers keep tightening and releasing around Stiles’ arms, he thinks Mini D won’t either. He pushes back against Derek enough so he can reach between them and get a hand around Mini D’s cock. It only takes a few strokes and Mini D is shuddering beneath him.

Mini D throws his head back as he comes, his ass spasming around Stiles’ cock, and it’s too much, too overwhelming, intense. His orgasm has been welling up inside of him since Derek first touched him and now it surges through him, all through his body — something pure and clear breaking free of its restraints. He feels shaken, is actually shaking, he realizes when he tangles his fingers with Mini D’s. Every cliche ever about fucking suddenly makes sense, tidal waves and white lights and the world being remade, all of it. He slumps forward onto Mini D, kisses him messily as Derek starts to come.

Derek pulls out, spurting hot stripes over Stiles’ used hole, then rubbing his cock against it, and it really does it for Stiles in a way that’s more than physical. Derek rolls them onto their side, into the nest of Dereks. Stiles’ cock slips out of Mini D, and Mini D lets out a little sigh that makes Stiles pull him closer. 

He nestles into the pile of Dereks, arms and legs wrapping around him from various directions. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s _comforting_. The Dereks are warm and cozy, and Stiles feels safe for the first time in so long. He likes the way the Dereks seem so easy with each other now. One of them smooths the hair away from Mini D’s forehead, a couple of them are spooning, one rubs his nose against another’s shoulder, and it’s more than Stiles hoped for, to see Derek caring for himself, at ease with himself. He feels like he should say something to commemorate the occasion, but he’s so exhausted that he can barely keep his eyes open.

“That was awesome,” he mumbles, tucking his head under Mini D’s chin. He means it in an epic, all-encompassing way, but he’s just going to have to trust that the Dereks understand because he doesn’t have the energy to explain. From the way that their grip tightens on him, he thinks they do.

*

Stiles wakes up alone just as his phone stops ringing. It starts again almost immediately and he rolls over to search for it on the floor. He aches literally everywhere.

“Stiles, is Derek with you?” Scott asks frantically through the phone. “There were like three of them with us but when Deaton finished the ritual they’d vanished.”

“Um,” says Stiles, and even that absolutely kills his throat. Man, he's going to need to learn vocal exercises for cocksucking or something if he wants to keep this up. He looks around his bed, which is disgusting and may need to be burned. No Dereks. He glances further afield but there’s no Dereks anywhere in his room. “I’ll check,” he tells Scott.

He gets to his feet with a ridiculous amount of effort and hobbles out of his room. He supposes that’s the price you pay for getting thoroughly fucked by a bunch of Dereks. A gaggle of Dereks. A _pack_ of Dereks. Whatever. Totally worth it. He makes it to the top of the stairs and looks down. No. Just no. He is not even attempting that today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe he should take the week off school. He wonders if “awesome group sex” counts as an excuse for a sick day.

He can hear someone clattering around in the kitchen and he hopes it’s Derek and not his dad because he’s butt naked and all marked up, and kind of sporting a half-chub at the way all this movement is pulling at his butt muscles like a reminder.

“Derek?” he calls. “Dereks?”

“Just me,” Derek calls back, just one Derek. “I’ll be up in a minute, go back to bed.”

“Huh,” says Stiles, and he’s not really sure what’s going on so he shuffles back to his room. “I think he’s back to normal,” he tells Scott.

“Are you okay, dude?” Scott asks. “You sound like you’ve got the flu.”

“I’ve definitely got something,” he says, looking down at his boner. “There is definitely something wrong with me.”

“Well, take care of yourself. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Okay, buddy,” Stiles says and hangs up the phone.

He wants to get back in bed, but it’s not even really a bed anymore, more like a jizz repository and he doesn’t have the energy to change the sheets. Sitting in the desk chair seems as if it will be painful but he’s not sure how much longer his legs will hold him up. He’s still hovering in indecision when Derek appears in the doorway holding two cups of coffee.

Stiles isn’t sure how he knows, but he can tell it’s the One True Derek. When he looks, he can see all the other Dereks in there: the sparkle in Mini D’s eye, the cockiness of Alpha, the warmth of snuggly Derek, the hotness of Porny McSexbomb.

“You’re a mess,” Derek says, handing Stiles the coffee.

“Dude,” Stiles says, which he thinks conveys everything.

Derek wraps his hands around his mug and smiles down at it, that tiny little smile that Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He’s wearing a pair of Stiles’ sweatpants and they’re riding low on his hips, and there is no way Stiles should be ready to go another round but he’d defy anyone to look at Derek and not _want,_ , no matter how well they’d been fucked earlier that day. 

“Soooooo,” Stiles says, then realizes he’s got nothing to follow that up with.

“So?” says Derek, raising his eyebrows.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asks. It’s not that he’s worried that Derek regrets it, because he knows that if Derek felt weird about anything that happened he wouldn’t have stuck around to make coffee. And Stiles may be insecure about many things but he’s pretty sure he’s awesome at taking cock. Or at least, Derek’s cock, which is the only cock he intends to be taking and therefore the only cock relevant.

“Good,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t miss the way he bites at his bottom lip as he glances at the bed. “Different. Better. Kind of… more complete.”

“You probably worked out some issues.”

Derek sets his mug down on the desk. “I have a lot of issues.” He eyes Stiles up and down and steps closer.

“Well, work them out on your own butt, big guy, because this butt is closed for business.”

Derek’s face closes off and he steps away. Stiles thinks over what he just said and realizes, yeah, that sounded bad. He grabs Derek around the wrist before he can back away any more.

“Only for today!” he says. “Maybe tomorrow. I took a pounding, dude. There were seven of you! Plus the bed is kind of gross.”

Derek still looks kind of sulky, Stiles could swear he’s actually pouting.

“Three of me were in Mexico with Scott and Deaton. And two were stuck outside and couldn’t get through the mountain ash.” He moves closer to Stiles, runs his thumb over the finger-shaped bruises on his hip. “We could hear everything.”

Stiles snorts. “And all of you wanted to get all up in this.”

Derek takes Stiles’ coffee out of his hand and sets it aside. “You’re naked.”

“You’re 100% into me. All of you. Even if there were 700 Dereks they'd all still want me. You're probably in love with me, dude.”

Derek rolls his eyes but Stiles knows it’s just for show because he’s running his hands over Stiles’ body and pulling him closer like he just can’t get enough of him.

"Probably," Derek says into Stiles' hair, and he's doing that sniffing thing again, and yeah, there's no way that isn't gross.

“We should shower,” Stiles tells him. “And then snuggle. But only if you change the sheets because I feel about 80 years old.”

“When you’re actually 80 years old, I’ll change the sheets,” Derek says, pulling Stiles toward the bathroom. “Until then, you can help.”

And that sounds kind of nice, so Stiles agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello to me on [tumblr](http://antwolff.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
